


Finally Free

by Jane271



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Good-ish ending?, I'll let you decide on that last tag, Molestation, Post-Goblet of Fire, Self-Harm, Starvation, Suicide, suicide romantication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane271/pseuds/Jane271
Summary: All his life Harry has faced horrible things, but no more. He will no longer allow them to hurt him so bad, and if that means to end it all, so be it.At least he'll finally be free.[Oneshot]





	Finally Free

**Author's Note:**

> !WARNING!; This is a seriously messed up fic. If any of the tags trigger you, meaning Child Abuse/Neglect, Starvation, Moletsation of a Minor, Self-Harm, or Suicide, DO NOT READ THIS FIC!
> 
> You have been warned!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling.

Young Harry Potter once dreamt about how his life could have been if his parents had lived that night. He wouldn’t have been forced to sleep in a cupboard for 10 years, would have gotten three full meals a day instead of the one and whatever he could find in the garbage. He would have gone to school for the first time knowing his full name, not just the initials and last name, H. J. Potter. The only reason he knew there letters were the first of his name was because these were stitched into the blanket he apparently arrived in at Privet Drive.

He imagined birthday parties with friends, getting hugs from both his mum and dad.

He imagined that he wouldn’t get belted every time  something whent wrong in the household like here with the Dursleys. That he wouldn’t get his bones broken over a broken plate or glass. That his hand wouldn’t get pressed on the scalding hot furnace when he burnt breakfast of dinner.

He imagined being loved and being happy.

It was clear to little Harry that there had to be some sort of miracle in order for that to happen.

And then it did. Or so he thought. When entering the Wizarding World  he thought his life would change for the better. He was wrong.

Every year up until now had been horrible. First year was relatively fine. Up until the point that he killed Quirrell. He burned the man alive using nothing more than his hands. The trauma of taking a man’s life changed him forever. He was eaten alive by his guilt, and when he expressed his feelings to the headmaster all he got from him was that he did a good job, a pat on the head like he was a trained dog that had done particularly well and was shipped back to the Dursley for the entire summer.

Second year wasn’t any better. The entire school turned on him without as much as a second thought when they realized he was a parselmouth. It got to the point that he had to go to the hospital wing several times a week due to being hexed and cursed at random moments when walking through the halls. That year ended with him actually dying. The basilisk venom stopped his heart for a full minute before the teachers could get it going again.

In third year there were the Dementors, making his normal depressed state he always had right after returning to school even worse. In regard of the attack on him in the train by the dreaded creatures he was to learn the Patronus charm to protect himself. A spell usually not taught until sixth year because of the sheer amount of magic it used when being cast. No matter how often he told Lupin how it hurt him to cast it, his complains went unheard. Instead he was forced to do it until the point he couldn’t hold his wand anymore from the amount of pain his body was in.

He was so happy to meet Sirius and learn that he was innocent only to have his dream of them living together shattered when they were alone. The man kept coming to close for comfort and ended up pinning him against a nearby rock with his gaudy, dirty hands on his ass. Harry desperately hoped the man would never be free.

In his fourth year the entire school turned on him yet again. This time because of the tri-wizard tournament. He was forced to compete in three dangerous tasks, the last of which proved to be deadly to one of the contestants.

When he returned to Hogwarts with Cedric’s dead body, he was blamed for not stopping Voldemort from rising once more. His friends abandoned him and his teachers expressed with outright disgust that they had never before been so disappointed in a student. With cold eyes Harry was once again sent to the Dursleys for the summer.

Even though Harry pleaded with Dumbledore every year to not be returned to the Dursleys, only to be denied the right of a safe place to stay and enough food to eat.

After what had happened the previous summer, the abuse had been taken up a notch. Currently he was nursing three broken ribs, three cracked ribs, a broken left  knee and ankle from where his uncle had hit him with a golf club, what he supposed was a heavy concussion, broken fingers and so on. His body-fat was now non-existent thanks to the starvation he had been submitted to.

A small beep came from his watch and pulled him from his thoughts.

12:00 PM.

Happy birthday to him.

With an  tremendous effort he managed to get himself into a sitting position and looked blankly at the wall for a moment. When he didn’t feel like vomiting his guts up right then and there, he reached under his old, flat and beat-up pillow. What he took out was a knife.

It was the same knife he had been using since the beginning of summer. Harry looked down at the rows of red lines on his thighs, just under the beginning of his boxers. The self-inflicted pain had helped him for a while, smoothing over his emotions and helped him control them better keeping nightmares at bay and giving him a sence of control. Now it was the only way for him to feel something. He was just numb all the time. There was no meaning to his life but suffering.

With a small, broken voice he quietly sang to himself; “Happy birthday to me, Happy birth- birthday to m-me, ha-appy birthday dear Harry… h-happy b-birthday t-to…”

**_-CLANK-_ **

A bloody knife dropped to the floor.

A  lifeless hand hang halfway over the edge of the bed, dripping crimson liquid on the hardwood floor.

The boy-who-lived was no more.

Two days later his body was discovered by Vernon Dursley who went to beat his nephew for somehow getting him to lose his job, only to find said boy no longer alive.

Within four hours upon discovery of his body, the entire world knew of their savior’s death. Within the next two years the magical world was torn apart by a horrible war, which eventually lead to the demise of the entire race. There were few witches and wizards left in the world and a great amount of them never made it to afterlife, for their souls were too bloodied and cruel to be allowed the right of life after death. Dumbledore, Harry’s old friends and teacher were all not allowed this right.

Meanwhile a boy with messy black hair was as happy as he could be. He lived in his own envisioned afterlife after all. The life he had always hoped he would get, yet knew he would never have.

In afterlife Harry was smiling, listening at his father and mother with rapt attention as they recalled some of their teenage escapades to their son who was sitting in between them, cuddled into his parents sides. The warm coco clutched in his hands –with now a normal amount of flesh and muscle on him- was lifted to take a sip. That day he had helped his mother cook the Christmas turkey, had flown with his father and went sledding.

Adruptly he laughed when his father described the way he looked after his mum had hexed him. The vision of his dad with neon-green hair, a hot-pink dress and high heels was too much for him.

The rest of the night Harry spent with his parents.

He never even thought of the people in the land of the living who were now feeling the loss of their savior.

He simply smiled and laughed feeling happy and loved, just like every day since he had arrived.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. That messed up what I just wrote. Why I even wrote it, I have no idea. I would say hope you enjoyed, but that feels wrong... Either way, thanks for reading.
> 
> PEACE!


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